


passing time

by nightbloomings



Series: prompts [11]
Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Dirty Talk, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-13
Updated: 2013-11-13
Packaged: 2018-01-01 08:56:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1042916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightbloomings/pseuds/nightbloomings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“C'mon, Mikey,” Trevor drawled, shifting in his seat to face Michael. He put his hand high up on Michael's thigh. “You get me, I get you back...” Trevor dug his fingers into the thick muscle under his hand, and he heard Michael's breath hitch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	passing time

“Argh,” Trevor groaned. “This is fucking _boring_. Why are we waiting in the car? The Hen House is a couple blocks from here, y'know. At least then we'd have a little entertainment.”

“Trevor, would you shut up? We gotta wait for Lester. Here.”

“This fucking car stinks. Smells like a rental.”

“What, you mean it smells _clean_? Yeah, I could see how that would offend you.”

Trevor sneered. “Fuck you.”

They fell back into silence for a while longer, but Trevor was feeling anxious. It wasn't that he was claustrophobic or anything like that, he just didn't like being cooped up in the same place for long. He liked being busy. His knee was bouncing absentmindedly until he felt the warmth of Michael's palm over his kneecap to still him.

“Aww yeah, sugar tits—that's a great idea.” He put his hand over Michael's, drawing it further up his leg. “Bet we could pass the time a few times over.”

Michael sighed and yanked his hand back, turning to look out the driver's side window.

Trevor frowned. Poor repressed Michael... That Amanda had really done a fucking number on him. But Trevor knew what Michael  _could_  be like—what he'd been like before. The boy just needed a little encouragement.

“C'mon, Mikey,” Trevor drawled, shifting in his seat to face Michael. He put his hand high up on Michael's thigh. “You get me, I get you back...” Trevor dug his fingers into the thick muscle under his hand, and he heard Michael's breath hitch.

Michael sat still for a moment, his eyes watching Trevor's hand on his leg, and then he let out a huff. “I ain't doing that, not in public.”He shifted his hips upwards, as if trying to shake Trevor's hand away.

“Oh, please. It's barely public around here.”

“We're in the middle of the street next to the bus station. I'd say that's pretty fucking public.”

“Yeah, but there ain't nothing up in Paleto Bay 'cept for geriatrics and cousin-fucking hicks. None of these fine folk are gonna care if they catch two men in the prime of their lives humpin' in a car.”

Michael scoffed and shook his head. “Get fucked.”

Trevor let out an exaggerated sigh and pulled his hand back. “Yeah, that’s exactly what I'm trying to do here, Mikey.”

If Michael didn't want to get off, then that was his own deal. Nothing was stopping Trevor from a little solo action.

Trevor moved his hand between his thighs, grabbing his semi through his camo pants. He liked having Michael next to him; it reminded him of the shit they got up to as kids. He hummed deeply at the thought, his dick growing harder.

“Trevor, c'mon...”

“Uh uh,” Trevor rasped. “You don't get to dictate when I get my rocks off. Not when you refuse to participate.”

Michael sighed and shifted his hips forward in his seat.

Trevor continued rubbing himself, using his fingertips along the outline of his dick to focus the friction.

“Wouldn't be the first time I sat back and watched, huh?”

That got Trevor's attention. He snapped his head to the left to look at Michael. He was leaning against the car door, body turned slightly towards Trevor with an elbow propped up by the window.

Trevor met Michael's eye, and the look was goading, daring him to continue. Trevor never had been one to back down from a challenge.

“Yeah,” Trevor said, “that's right. You  _were_  a bit of a dirty fuck, weren't you?” He was fully hard now, his cock straining against the thin fabric of his pants. He started undoing his belt, eager to get his hands on himself.

“Only around you, somehow. Something about you turns me into a degenerate, I guess.”

“'m fuckin' flattered,” Trevor ground out as he pulled his dick free.

“You remember some of the shit we did, back then?” Michael's tone was light, almost teasing.

Trevor nodded, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Hell yeah.” He passed his thumb over the head of his cock, pressing down slightly against the slit.

“Couple of kids with too much money, booze and drugs, and not enough responsibility.”

Trevor held his breath for a long moment, relishing the way it heightened how good his hand felt around him. “You miss it?”

“Parts. The freedom of it, I guess.” Michael paused, and Trevor heard the leather of the seat creak as he shifted in it again. “Mostly I miss the way your mouth felt around my dick.”

Trevor nearly choked on his inhale and looked at Michael with a pointed look. Now  _that_  was what he was after.

“Yeah,” Michael continued. “You always were good at that. Real good.”

“Christ, M.” Trevor leaned his head back against the headrest. “You sure you don't wanna just get over here?”

“Just go with it, c'mon.”

“Fine, fine.” Trevor closed his eyes and continued to pump himself with slow, deliberate strokes. “What else you miss?”

“That feeling, y'know, after a job done right. That high. Remember some of those? When we couldn't even make it back to whatever shitty hole in the wall we were staying in?”

Trevor answered with a broken, “yeah.”

“You fucking me in the back of the car, when we should've been more concerned about the cops catching up to us. Never gave much of a shit about that though, huh?”

This was pretty out of character for Michael, or at least for Michael 2.0, but Trevor wasn't gonna complain—this Michael could show up whenever the fuck he wanted.

Trevor grunted, quickening his pace. “Seem to recall you begging for it, a couple of times.”

“Yeah, I bet I did. You were a good fuck—still are.”

“Hell yes...” Trevor moaned, rough and low, massaging the inside of his thigh with his free hand.

“Still the best I ever had—”

“Of anyone?” Trevor asked, cutting Michael off.

“Yeah, T—of anyone.”

Trevor had always suspected that was the case—he was probably the best that a lot of people had had. And there was the way Michael got when they fucked: undone, loose, and kinda downright slutty sometimes. But Michael affirming it was one of the sexiest things he'd heard in a long time.

Trevor cleared his throat. “This job, the bank score,” he paused, hissing in a breath. “Should be a big one. You gonna let me fuck you afterwards?”

Michael chuckled. He didn’t answer right away, and Trevor felt his eyes on him, watching him. Trevor rolled his hips, fucking up into his hand with a sharp groan.

“ _Let_  you? No...”

Trevor grimaced, but kept his eyes closed; he was too caught up in how good he felt, in how close he was. If crabby old Michael was back, then fine—Trevor had gotten what he needed, he was in the homestretch anyway. He tightened his grip a little and rubbed at his balls through his pants with his other hand.

“I’m gonna  _make_  you fuck me, T. I’ll demand it; tell you exactly how I want it, too.”

“Oh, shit...” Trevor moaned the words, undone by the thought of Michael being pinned under him but still owning his cock, bossing him around. He gave his dick a few last strokes, letting out a heavy breath.

Michael shifted in his seat to face forward again. He turned his head slightly towards Trevor and looked at him from the corner of his eye. “Happy now?”

Trevor finished cleaning himself off with the hem of his t-shirt and tucked his dick back into his pants. “Oughta tide me over for a while. Thanks, bud,” he said, flashing Michael a crooked smile.

Michael scoffed and shook his head. “Yeah, right. Don’t fuckin’ mention it.”

 


End file.
